


Speak with their actions

by numbika



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Time, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, ish, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 18:46:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16498172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numbika/pseuds/numbika
Summary: The commander needs rest and cuddling after almost getting killed, but he would never actually say it out loud. And Vetinari has something to say.





	Speak with their actions

Lord Havelock Vetinari sat in a bed and read, accompanied by a candle. Not his own bed, mind you, but in The Patrician's Palace, so technically, it was his, just not the one he usually slept in.

He read the folded-up piece of paper, and dropped it beside the bed, the noise of countless tiny feet broke the fragile silence. The leader of the city took out another piece of paper, and read it carefully. The candleflame wobbled a bit, as a sliver of gust entered the room trough the half opened window. It was almost midnight now, but the lights of the city never slept, they were always shining, strong enough to overpower even the brightest starlight.

Havelock glanced out, he was in one of the highest bedrooms within the palace, and from here, the view was remarkably breath taking, even by standards of the Palace. Which was a shame, because mere months ago he wasn’t even considering that somebody will ever use this room. He had to inactivate more than a couple of traps before they two were able to sleep in it.

Vetinari smiled and leaned against the back of the bed. Spending the night together with the Commander was something that only had a chance about one in a million. The firs occasion wasn’t even really planned, it was just sort of happened.

The commander pushed himself too far, as he used to (a small inner voice of Vetinari was quite disappointed that it wasn't him who got the watchman tired out.) and wanted to go home, alone, in the middle of the night, but he managed to talk him down of it. It was a good thing too since his fatigue was due to the fact the watch had managed to get into trouble with both the Guild of Thiefs, and Guild of Assassins, once again. It wasn’t as if they were liable to try anything, but bureaucracy and the accompanying task to keep his own sarcasm at bay tended to sap away Vimes energy. He was liable to walk into traffic after that if he wasn’t careful.

Tomorrow morning the watchman wasn’t even aware that he fallen asleep in the palace, much less that it was right beside the Patrician. He put together what happened in a kind of dumbfounded daze and left in much the same.

Even though they had an understanding. A relationship. Although as to which kind Havelock was unable to find the right word.

They were important to each other, and they cared about each other. But these feelings weren’t really accompanied by words, only by actions. Small, secret kissing whenever no one was looking. Stolen hours spent together thanks to the numerous secret passageways leading out of the Palace, passageways only know by Vetinari of course. And they were happy. So far, it was enough for that and the feeling required no name. So far.

Lord Vetinari sighed slightly.

"Words have power." He mused loudly. "Especially in this city." He glanced out the window towards the Unseen University. "Just one step away from living magic." At least they slept together, whenever Samuel managed to drive himself too far.

He glanced back at the report, and once again turned his attention towards it. The City Watch was busier by the day. Ankh-Morpork must have had some kind of unnatural attraction to the criminal elements of society. It wasn't like the city could be ever peaceful, but during the last couple of years, unnatural events multiplied. There were dragons, a red star, music with rocks in it, even the Hogfather seemed a little strange last year.

The Patricians eye wandered towards the candle once again.

"He's late."

 

Commander Vimes run through Cockbill Street fuelled by nothing but pure anger. The one he was chasing had considerable lead on him, but that meant nothing compared to the rage that drove his pursuer.

The six-member band was quite clever, you had to give that to them. They used stink bombs against Angua, they wore mask and hoods during their break ins, and they made most of the evidence against them either burned, or thrown into the Ankh. First, only smaller objects disappeared from the houses of Morpork, then they turned their attention towards the wealthier inhabitants of the city.

They were very efficient. While five of them made some ruckus as a distraction in another part of the city, while the sixth member could do his job in silence and free of distraction. They melted the locks with acid, wore gloves as to not leave fingerprints. They almost always worked in complete quiet, or if it was impossible, made the biggest noise in another part of the city to keep the Watch occupied.

Still, not their effectiveness was the reason why Vimes considered their deeds almost a personal matter. The reasons name was Sophia Matches. A young girl, who happened on one of them when the robber tried to stole what little money she and her granny had. She just wanted to save his grandmother, and the livelihood they lived from day to day. And now, he lost the vision one of her eyes. Because the Guard was slow, and he himself was to dumb to put the jigsaw puzzle together quick enough.

He ran through the small roads, using shortcuts, or hardly walked alleys that were only known by street kids and beggars, to catch up to the fleeing man. Unfortunately, he was expected. A crossbow was raised, aiming right at him. However, what the man - at the end of the crossbow - didn’t expect was that the commander threw himself towards him yelling as loud as he could. The surprised accomplished its intended effect, the man was unable to pull the trigger and aim fast enough to guarantee the hit. The arrow he managed to shoot only grazed the side of the commander's chest plate. It didn’t pierce threw it, but it did make a noticeable dent on it. Not that the commander realised it at that time. He swept the man into the ground and punched his face as hard as he could. There was a dull wet crunch, which was accompanied by a painfully yell.

"Mr. Stickee Hans. It's nice to finally meet you." Grumbled Vimes, shutting out the raging tide that shouted in his head that he shouldn’t have stopped with only one hit.

"We got all six of you." Continued the commander, breathing heavily. He rolled the man to his stomach, and forced his hands to his back.

"Curse you! Let me go you gods damned dog!" There was fighting fiercely under him, but Sam was well on his way to getting him to shut up buy tightening his grip on his hand. Then, from completely nowhere right behind his back, somebody struck the commander. The world became dark in a second, and every voice was muted. There was some shouting in the distance, but he couldn’t figure it out what were they on about.

Where the hells is Carrot?

When he gathered himself a little, he found himself face to face with the end of a crossbow once again. And the other end a slightly distorted smile beamed down on him.       

"Last words, Sir Samuel?" The man almost spat the words. It was possibly because of hatred, or more likely because the mans teeth was tried its best to get away from its mouth.

Vime slowly opened his mouth. He needed to get some time. A thought managed to get trough the haze of his mind. This face was hard to forget, and he most definitely knew it.

"Turd…you are Turd Dumplin. I have to say, if it isn’t the worst name I ever heard. Your parents must have hated you to hells end."

"Third." Growled the man with all the pride he could gather. "MY name is THIRD, Third Dumpfkin!"  Old man Dumpfkin was a respectable if naïve and non-confrontational sailor. When he came back after a long voyage, and found another kid in the house, instead of subjecting his wife to a very much due questioning, just name the kid. Unfortunately, the old Dumpfkin was also very unimaginative, which resulted in the family consisting of him, his wife, and the six children, named First, Second, Third, and so on.

"Sure, sorry. That sounds much better I have to say." Vimes felt the small vibrations of the street. If nothing else, Detritus was on his way. "But I have to disappoint you Mr. Turd. I mean Third. Sorry it’s a slip of the tongue I promise. You can't get out of the city, every gate is closed and guarded by my men."

"Maybe, maybe" the man on the other side of the crossbow became uncertain for a couple of seconds, but then his smile became more predatory. "But you wont be alive to-"

The blade went half trough the chest of the man. And because clichés are sometimes strongest than sheer law of nature, the man managed to look down, and make a shocked expression, before crumbling to the ground, like a piece of cloth. Vimes rolled away from the crossbow, but fortunately, it didn’t fired itself from the fall. He raised his head, searching for the owner of the throwing knife. He managed to catch a black shape disappearing behind one of the chimneys.

From behind a corner Angua swirled out, running full speed, after him Carrot and Detritus thundered down the alley. The werewolf growled at Stickee, the one remaining criminal.

"He killed it." Mumbled Hans fearfully.

"Everything is all right, sir?" Carott ran to Vimes who was in the process of standing up and dusting himself off. The commander's face was carefully neutral. "Sir?"

"An assassin killed him."  Said the Commander, looking at the body. "Did you catch the others?"

"Yes sir. Dorfl, Nobby and Cherry have them."

"Good, arrest this one too and bring him in."

"Yes, sir." Carrot looked a bit uncertain when Vimes simply started walking. "Sir…"

"Captain? " The commander stopped. His voice was carefully neutral, but he didn’t turn around.

"You have to have someone treat your wound. It looks nasty."

"I will do so Captain. Good work."

"Thank you, sir." Carott gave him a crisp salute, and then glanced towards the body on the ground.

This shouldn’t have happened.

 

During his walk, he almost tripped. He was slightly nauseous, when he touched his head, his hand became sticky from the congealed blood. But the bleeding was a secondary issue, and one can say that the dizziness could be attributed to his lack of sleep and the fact that he wasn’t really eating properly. His legs worked on their own accord, leaving his mind free to do its own job.

He tried to push the anger away from himself, but despite the fact that they caught the criminals, it just became worse. Somebody hired an assassin, because they deemed the guard to slow, and now they killed his suspect. It was basically a done but still. How many dollars did they give the Assassins' Guild to kill that guy? Lord Downey knew about their understanding about leaving each other alone, for the good of the city.

Gods damned assassins.

He reached up and rubbed the saddle of his nose in a vain attempt to stop his head from throbbing. Surprisingly, it worked, at least slightly. He looked up on the Patrician Palace, and self-loathing joined to angers party in their attempt to ruin the Commander's day. Of course, he promised Havelock that they will meet up, hasn’t he?

The fatigue landed on his shoulders like a flying mountain, weighing down his whole body and mind. After a couple of minutes of hesitation, he turned to the opposite direction. He was heading towards the abandoned house that Havelock showed him.

Despite Ankh-Morpork ever growing population there was still a couple of buildings that remained empty. Most of them of course were around the Alchemist Guild. Still, there was some noble families that didn’t have enough money to properly renovate their big estate, but had more than enough pride not to sell it. Among them were hidden a couple which belonged to the Patrician in secret. They tended to be 'those' houses.

The ones which had rumours about them: 'Long ago you know, the Tificum family lived in it, you know? Oh, you don’t know?! They were an old noble family but everything was stolen from them. Or they were killed in their sleeps, and since then you could hear the footsteps. And the kings used to bring the young girls there, and, you know.' Everybody knew that those houses best be avoided. And the Patrician made sure that indeed everybody knew that. And so, nobody has gone into those houses, and the Palace had more than a couple of secret entrances and exits.

Vimes climbed down the ladder, which led to a narrow passageway leading into the Palace. He pushed the correct bricks, and jumped over those that he was warned about by Vetinari. After only about ten minutes, he found himself in the empty hallway of the palace. The way here was more tiring then the whole running around in the city at night thing. When he finally reached the door, he simply opened it, and stepped inside.

Beside the bed, the candle was only barely burning now.

"Commander?" Vetinari sat waiting in his bed.

The mentioned walked to the other end of it, and also sat down.

"Sam? You're bleeding." Havelock moved a little bit closer to the commander

"It's nothing." The man's voice was coarse. He was so tired, and so much anger burned in him that a shiver ran through him every couple of seconds.

"Then it's not a problem if I check it, is it?"

Samuel, looking at him the first time, waited a second and then took of his helmet with a small nod. Vetinari lit another candle and inspected the wound. "Ugly, but not serious. Don't move, please."

Vimes twitched as his wound was cleaned and treated.

"What happened?"

"Should I make an official report now?" The question had an edge, something Vetinari haven't heard in a while from him. Or from any other since he became the Patrician.

"No need. Maybe we should go to sleep instead."

Vimes consciousness danced around him, and sometimes kicked him in the stomach for good measure. He didn't want to act like that, not here and not now. Instead of answering, he just took of his armour and clothes. Vetinari gave him the fresh shirt and pyjama trousers, so he could sleep. Not taking a bath is one thing, but sleeping in bloody clothes is another.

Vimes hid under the blanket without saying a word as Vetinari extinguished the candles. They lay beside each other and listened each other's breathing.

As Samuels eye got used to the darkness he turned towards the leader of the city. They have slept beside each other more than a couple of times, and they got used to it. But they never gone to sleep after an argument like this.

"It was an assassin." Said Vimes to the darkness. He didn’t want to explain himself, bit he didn’t want to go to sleep with a bad taste in their mouth. He hasn’t got an answer, but he knew that Havelock was paying attention. "We almost got them, when one of them slipped out of Carrot's arms. He somehow got behind me, and walloped me in the head." Vimes sighed.

 _I was a fool and almost got killed_ , he thought. "After that, he pointed his crossbow, right at my face. I was sure that he will hit me. But then, just a split second before that, a blade landed in his heart. A blade." Vimes rubbed his face and breathed out his gathered anxiety. "It killed him in an instance."

Vetinari's hand slowly slid onto his face. They stayed like that for a couple of seconds.

"I'm very sorry."

"Mh, it's not your fault." Vimes almost said the 'Is it?' after, but he managed to bit of his own cynicism for once. "I was slow, and I didn’t payed enough attention. That’s why that wretched guy didn’t get in front of a jury as he should have. " The Patrician tightened his grip on the commander's hand. He shut his eyes, and at last, the room stopped wobbling and waving around. Maybe now he can let himself sleep.

Vetinari has guessed that it was something like this. He read about the injured girl, and the other robbery victims. One of them got away. He was dead, but it still meant that he hasn’t arrived in front of a jury.

He moved closer to Vimes, and embraced him. Vimes didn’t protested. His stubborn pride usually restrained his softer side, but now, fatigue reigned supreme. Vetinai slowly caressed his hair, back, taking care not to touch the parts where he was injured. He felt the tenseness in the commander's body.

"Samuel" he whispered into his hair.

"Yes?"

Havelock closed his eyes, and slowly smiled. "I think I love you."

Silence spread through the room again, but the half asleep feeling disappeared in a second from Vimes. His face started to blush, as his brain was working on what he heard. His eyes opened in a second, and he looked at the man beside him. "What?"

He was sure, that Vetinari was chuckling. Even in the shadows he could see the Patricians dark eyes, they looked much softer than usual. His face became even more red.

"I…uh…"

"Yes, Samuel?"

"I mean…errm…"

Vetinaris smile became wicked and he started to place small kisses on the commander's face.

"I love you."

Sam's thoughts were sitting beside each other in awkward silence. In their youthful embarrassment, they tried not to steer too much attention on themselves.

"But…at our age this…"

"You are saying I am too old? How charming."

"No, not that! You are in great shape and all. It just, love is….ermm…love is a thing that..."

Havelock kissed the man's face with a small mysterious smile.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Samuel"

"How can you be so sure?"

Vetinari gave out a small soft chuckle, which stoked the fire of embarrassment in the commander even more. He couldn’t hide it anymore. He wanted to make him shut up, and listen to him even more at the same time.

"Well…well…uh."

"Lets sleep, dear. "

"Sleep. Yes, sleep, that’s sounds sensible, yes."

Vetinari moved closer to him. Vimes was pretty sure that both of their hearts beat like crazy. His was drumming in his ear that’s for sure, but when the others chest moved closer, he could swear that it had just the same beat.

"Good night Samuel."

"Good night."

Sam could feel Havelock's heartbeat slowing down, and his breathing too became calm. His heart on the other hand continued on his own fast rhythm. Was he happy? He didn’t have to think too much about that. The answer was an obvious yes, much more than any time before. Yet something didn’t let him be. He wanted to do… _something_.

"I can almost hear your thoughts." Murmured slowly Havelock with a happy tone. Vimes would have chanced calling it 'in love voice'. "I couldn’t have disoriented you this much Sam".

"No. Or yes. I just…" Vimes pushed himself halfway up and gave a kiss to the Patrician. At first only their lips played on each other, before their tongues joined the fight too. After a couple of seconds Havelock found himself panting, and laying on his back.

"You little…" Sam caressed his face "…you just said that to distract me a little. But I also know that it was the truth, you bloody idiot."

"Sir Samuel, you dare speak like that to the leader of your city? " Havelock run his fingers along the man's back.

"Exactly." He leaned towards the Patricians shoulder, and gave a gentle bite to it, while he started to undress him. Havelock gave out a small happy moan, and buried his finger into the commander's hair.

Truth to be told, they were always better when they spoke with their actions.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the reading!  
> As always I just wanted to write some fluff and this was made. I hope you liked it.  
> Also also I write it after when I saw this amazing art : https://vimessart.tumblr.com/post/177701551559 Go check out those lovely Discworld fanarts!  
> Also my english is still not the best, but I'm workin on it.  
> Have a nice day!


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